CreationEarth Nature Photos

Long Poem Topics

Check out these short poem topics. Find short poems by topic or form.

abortion absence
abuse addiction
adventure africa
age allah
allegory allusion
america analogy
angel anger
angst animal
anniversary anti bullying
anxiety appreciation
april arabic
art assonance
august autumn
baby bangla
baptism baseball
basketball beach
beautiful beauty
bereavement best friend
betrayal bible
bio bird
birth birthday
black african american blessing
blue boat
body books
boyfriend break up
bridal shower brother
bullying business
butterfly cancer
candy car
care career
caregiving cat
celebration celebrity
change chanukah
character cheer up
chicago child
child abuse childhood
children chocolate
christian christmas
cinderella city
class clothes
color community
computer confidence
conflict confusion
cool corruption
courage cousin
cowboy crazy
creation crush
cry culture
cute love dad
dance dark
daughter day
death death of a friend
december dedication
deep depression
desire destiny
devotion discrimination
divorce dog
dream drink
earth earth day
easter education
emo emotions
encouraging england
environment epic
eulogy eve
evil fairy
faith family
fantasy farewell
farm fashion
father father daughter
father son fathers day
fear february
feelings film
fire firework
first love fish
fishing flower
flying food
football for children
for her for him
for kids forgiveness
freedom french
friend friendship
fruit fun
funeral funny
funny love future
games garden
gender giggle
girl girlfriend
giving god
golf good morning
good night goodbye
gospel gothic
graduate graduation
grandchild granddaughter
grandfather grandmother
grandparents grandson
grave green
grief growing up
growth guitar
hair halloween
happiness happy
happy birthday hate
health heart
heartbreak heartbroken
heaven hello
hero high school
hilarious hindi
hip hop history
hockey holiday
holocaust home
homework hope
horror horse
house how i feel
howl humanity
humor humorous
hurt husband
hyperbole i am
i love you i miss you
identity image
imagery imagination
immigration innocence
insect inspiration
inspirational international
internet introspection
ireland irony
islamic january
jealousy jesus
jewish jobs
journey joy
judgement july
june kid
kindergarten kiss
language leadership
leaving life
light little sister
london loneliness
lonely longing
loss lost
lost love love
love hurts lust
lyric magic
malayalam marathi
march marriage
math may
me meaningful
memorial day memory
men mentor
metaphor middle school
military miracle
mirror miss you
missing missing you
mom money
moon morning
mother mother daughter
mother son mothers day
motivation mountains
moving on mum
murder muse
music my child
my children mystery
myth mythology
name native american
natural disasters nature
new year new york
nice niece
night nonsense
nostalgia november
nursery rhyme obituary
ocean october
old onomatopoeia
pain paradise
parents paris
parody pashto
passion patriotic
peace people
pets philosophy
places planet
poems poetess
poetry poets
political pollution
poverty power
prayer preschool
pride princess
prison psychological
purple quinceanera
race racism
rain rainbow
rainforest rap
raven recovery from
red relationship
religion religious
remember remembrance day
repetition retirement
riddle rights
river romance
romantic rose
roses are red rude
sad sad love
satire scary
school science
science fiction sea
seasons self
senses sensual
september sexy
sick silence
silly silver
simile simple
sin sister
sky slam
slavery sleep
smart smile
snow soccer
social society
softball soldier
solitude sometimes
son song
sorrow sorry
soulmate sound
space spanish
spiritual spoken word
sports spring
star stars
storm strength
stress student
success suicide
summer sun
sunset sunshine
sweet symbolism
sympathy tamil
teacher teachers day
technology teen
teenage thank you
thanks thanksgiving
tiger time
today together
travel tree
tribute true love
trust truth
uplifting urban
urdu usa
vacation valentines day
vanity veterans day
violence visionary
vogon voice
volleyball voyage
war water
weather wedding
wife wind
wine winter
wisdom woman
women word play
words work
world world war i
world war ii write
writing yellow
youth
Submit Poems
Get Your Premium Membership

Long Sorry Poems | Long Sorry Poetry

Long Sorry Poems. Below are the most popular long Sorry by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Sorry poems by poem length and keyword.

See also: Famous Long Poems

Long Poems
Long poem by binibining P.iNk | Details |

Am I Turning into a Lizard Serial Killer

Hmmm, where do I start? With deep sighs, I am sighing right now.
I just finished burying 2 lizards, and my heart is heavy...

Let me back up a bit...bear with me if I might turn out to be confusing here,
but I just need to write this, release something, in some way
Although I must admit, this is not exactly what I had in mind to write for this day,
hopefully I can write something more decent later...

I have been wanting to write something for my brother since yesterday,
since February 26 is his 10th year death anniversary.
The words remained stuck in my heart, 'til I fell asleep.

Visited him again today, heard mass for him, 
ate a Chinese dinner with my parents and sister, went home.

I now needed dessert. Got a piece of Ferrero Rocher, but just one wouldn't do.
So I got a piece of Almond Roca this time and ate it while walking.

All this time, I have managed to keep my tears away
but maybe somehow, someway, if tears want to fall, they will find a way?

I walk to that area again as I ate that piece of chocolate-
when what do you know, what do you know??

Oh sighs.

I stepped on a lizard.  Again 

Yes. Almost exactly the Same area, tail falls off, and the lizard skitters away.

But. I did not slip this time. But, yes, I still screamed, scaring everybody again.

I. Could. Not. Simply. Believe. IT.

One month and 25 days after, I step on a lizard. Again.

Today, of all days. As if I needed more reason to be sadder.

This time around, I had the sense to try to find that lizard. 
I had to know if it lived, if it was okay.
I pushed away the nearby cabinet.
And there it was.
Rather, and there they were.

The lizard that I stepped on now
and the petrified remains of the lizard that I stepped on on new year's day...
the other one didn't live after all :(

I know it was that lizard, same area, no tail, who else could it be?
Survival mechanism, no match for my killer foot.

By this time, I am crying, sobbing. 
Seriously, the tears just start falling, and my heart so heavy.
And I know it's from the combination of so many things.
The day itself, what I had just done, just things running through me.

What broke my heart, was to see that lizard. 
I was wearing rubber shoes this time, last time I was wearing slippers.
And its guts had spilled from its sides. 
I couldn't help but keep on saying, "Oh, oh, oh lizard, I am so sorry"

I touched it feebly, and it was literally gaping its mouth.
I don't think I can ever forget that?
Such a small creature, gasping, with its insides out, 
its skin on its legs and body scraped.
In pain.
Dying.

And it was all my fault.

My sister was there with me, trying to help in her own way.

But yes, there's nothing you can really do...I didn't want to stress it even more,
and let death finish what I did. 


There's so much I can glean from this, and I want to ramble on, so badly
but I will try to stop myself from rambling too much.

I put the two lizards, along with a note, the dates when I stepped on them 
(ok, killed them), and placed them carefully in a chocolate truffle box.

I buried them and still feel so sorry.

In some ways, this is can be so funny, and just  freaky & crazy (what's new, this is me?)
What were the odds??? Same place, same thing happening.
And I can't help but roll my eyes at myself as well, just finding it so hard to fathom
how I stepped on not just one but Two lizards in just two months.

I bet that the lizards are all afraid of me now, 
saying how I am a lizard killer. A serial lizard killer.
MO: stepping on them while screaming, maybe my screams also killed them off?

I actually took photos of both lizards, I am not sure why though.
Oh dear God, help me, I am acting like one, even documenting them.

I tell you, as I watched that lizard die, I couldn't help but just also
think of St. Jude (for the impossible) and St. Francis of Assisi (for animals).

I know he was dying, but somehow, yes, prayers still comfort me.

I just feel so guilty, with this happening. 

I still can't help but cry for those lizards, death by me, for no reason at all,
no purpose served.

Animals, people....death.

I know it's all a part of life... 
but it still doesn't change the fact how death can change us
and of how I am responsible for two lizard deaths.
I know they were just small animals, but Still. They were living creatures.

Death can change us in small ways, some in big ways, negatively or positively.

It all boils down to death transforming us one way or another...

I won't expound on it anymore, this is too long,
but one of the ways I can think of comparing it to, is that of a chemical change,
maybe of the spirit, the soul? Not merely a physical change.


And we can never be the same. 






022720141207123552

Copyright © binibining P.iNk | Year Posted 2014


Long poem by Robbie Butler | Details |

Meaningful Screw You's

I'm done with this I've had enough of this/
Slushy trip since Hell Paso son just quit
This empty pursuit
Of letting the past keep livin' through you/
Go ahead and equip the damn truth
It is that simple to choose
What state of the neighbor of the temple you use
But you're just so adamant to worship/
Every preliminary negative
Which is why you have sentiment for those sedatives
Want evidence man your head has been/
Set on making your *****Titanic as
You steer into a gigantic crash/
Without any ****ing idea what effect thy absence has/
On the kids and on me too/
My heart feels ripped the honest truth/
To see you empty as your holes in the wall
You're like a ghost to us all/
Pale as the Seroquil pills you down/
I want to help but under the meds what you feel gets drowned/
I have the inauspicious fear you'll end up just like Tommy
That's why I pray every night/ I can't lose you Robbie


You have no idea 
What it's like
To watch you die
Every day
Every night
All the time
You can't even see that I am
Here with you
By your side
But as much
As I try
You deny
That I fight
For your life then I scream that
To me your life's meaningful (good riddance) 
But I'm 'bout this close to sayin' **** you (you idiot)
To me your life's meaningful (good riddance)
But I'm 'bout this close to sayin' **** you (you idiot)


Why can't you just forget the past
Take some time to look at the bigger picture and not be back in a flash
We're Kruger (pronounced close to sounding like Kroger)/ the fear you helped restore gives me bags
And I'm beyond tired of takin' attacks from your last-
Ing grudge for my darker days/
I love you but I wish to part our ways/
There's only so much my heart can take
In terms of holes and you immerse me in 'em the Spartan way/
It's not our choice we're physically far away/
And yes half the reason is me that our spark gave way/
But this time it's your fault that our world is shaking
You shut me out because the ears of another girl were waiting/
It seems that even for Britney your concern's decaying
It's ****ed up/ 'cause you never acknowledged how much I changed/
'Cause of our rapport me and my fam are pretty much estranged
**** these games you love to play/ 'tween now and then nothin's changed
Good luck not lovin' me as much as pain


You have no idea 
What it's like
To watch you die
Every day
Every night
All the time
You can't even see that I am
Here with you
By your side
But as much
As I try
You deny
That I fight
For your life then I scream that
To me your life's meaningful (good riddance) 
But I'm 'bout this close to sayin' **** you (you idiot)
To me your life's meaningful (good riddance)
But I'm 'bout this close to sayin' **** you (you idiot)


For a year it's been suicide with clues to find solutions I/
Don't think you're usin' my heartful l advice/ damn dude have I
Not been full of time so you could find/ reasons for you to not be blue and live/
But everytime I cope a sit and let you vent/ you walk off and do the opposite/
Talk about exhausted *****try listenin' to all your promises
And problems it's/ a shame how it's all turned out
I'm so burnt out/
I'll be the last to say this won't work out/
If you take your anger out on me again like I'm a dating spot/
Speakin' of those feelings that you refrain from not (knot)-
Icing was it honesty/ or rants of despar (as in spar) ity exasperated by deprav (as in im"prov") ity/
Or is there a real fervor (as in carni"vore") for me
If so then why you ignor (same as above) ing me/
For a Vai's you say you are not strong enough to close
Go **** yourself with a rubber hose
I don't care where the **** it goes/
I was there when no one was and this' the thanks I get
Never was I a dick to you so why'd you wank me *****/
My tears have turned into repressed anger/
For you a brother to me now a depressed stranger
That I have to put up longer than my dress' hanger


You have no idea 
What it's like
To watch you die
Every day
Every night
All the time
You can't even see that I am
Here with you
By your side
But as much
As I try
You deny
That I fight
For your life then I scream that
To me your life's meaningful (good riddance) 
But I'm 'bout this close to sayin' **** you (you idiot)
To me your life's meaningful (good riddance)
But I'm 'bout this close to sayin' **** you (you idiot)

Copyright © Robbie Butler | Year Posted 2013


Long poem by Dennis East | Details |

THE DAY WE COOKED OUR GOOSE

I recall one winter’s morning I went fishing with my mate,
And we'd both been out the night before, and got in far too late.
But a promise is a promise, and I said that I would drive
To the gravel pits in Park Street, where we'd start at half past five.

We both liked going piking – though it’s quite a little trip,
But once you've got your bait out, you can have yourself a kip.
And as we rarely ever catch much, it makes such a peaceful day,
For if we’re not busy sleeping we can fish the hours away.

Then just as I got settled down, with the float out in my swim,
I heard my mate start shouting - what the hell was up with him?
So I quickly reeled my bait in, and grabbed my landing net.
I thought, I’d better go and help him; it's a monster I would bet.
And when I got behind him, I could see what lit his fire,
A swan had swum across his line and tangled in the wire.

Well it fought and flapped and spun and squawked and tried to get away,
But the line was far too strong and tight and would have held all day.
There was sadly nothing we could do, it really was a sod,
Though my mate, he kept his grip on, case it flew off with his rod.
Eventually it stopped moving; you could tell that it was dead,
So we pulled it in and cut the line that wrapped around its head.

Thank God that no one saw us; we were down there all alone,
I said, “We'll have to hide the body.”  He said, “No, I'll take it home.
We must be sure that no one finds it, so I'll give it to my dad.
And as the Queen’s the owner – she’s the last one we want mad.”
I said, “What if we're pulled over and police start searching me?
We'll be locked up in the tower and they'll chuck away the key.”

So I drove home oh so carefully, in my fear of being stopped.
It was the ‘baddest’ thing I'd ever done - I'd die if we were copped.
Then at last we got to his house and we hid it in his garage,
As long as my mum never knows - it could cost my dad his marriage.
He said, “Just leave the rest to me; I'll phone you later on,
And tell you what my dad decides about this bloody swan.”

Well, the hours went past so slowly, and the guilt began to claw;
It felt like we had robbed a bank and were hiding from the law.
Then eventually he rang and said his dad had flipped his lid,
And if I called by next morning, he would tell me what he did.
Well it made for me an anxious night, and sleeping very hard;
How would I explain a visit from the Yeoman of the Guard?

I reached his house at ten to twelve; and dinner smelt just great.
His mum said I should stay and eat, and laid another plate.
And when at last we all sat down, she carried in the roast;
It was the biggest bird I'd ever seen, and was like I'd seen a ghost.
You see, my mate's dad’s a butcher, and to him a bird's a bird.
And his mum thought she'd cooked a goose, so not to say a word.

It was the finest Sunday dinner that I've had in all my days,
As it tasted just amazing in a million different ways.
So that’s why they're protected - and just posh folk are allowed,
It's because they taste so special and just one can feed a crowd.
Then his mum gave me a doggy bag to make my taste buds tickle;
I was the only boy in work next day with rolls of ‘swan and pickle’.

(Sorry Your Majesty it was an honest accident)

Copyright © Dennis East | Year Posted 2016


Long poem by Mark Leeper | Details |

My Clone Got No Soul

My Clone Got No Soul

My clone, it seems, came out with no soul,
I guess it got lost, in the petri dish bowl.
In the mirror, a face like me would come through,
But that’s where it ended,
He was more like Deep Blue.
He never did find that “happy” place,
He never belonged, to the whole human race.

I wanted to console my clone with no soul,
But which part was actually there to console?
His head, his heart, his hand or his foot,
That’s a soulless sole, with no spiritual root.
He tried yoga, and diet, and Zen meditation,
But the chakras weren’t there for his elevation,
And soon he came down with “no motivation.”

I gave him the novel, that old Frankenstein,
He was all Shelly and shell shocked,
And out of his mind.
He took to drink, his gourd to console,
He even packed up, a nice little bowl.
I guess any change of mind will do,
When you’re trapped in your ego,
All cornered and blue.

So I bought him a TV, 
With a satellite dish,
But it didn’t satisfy, not one single wish.
“Too many reruns,” he said with a stare,
“Heather’s cheating on Alex, but what do I care.”
I’ve got more problems that are troubling me,
All existential and twisted, to the nth degree,

My guanine, and cytosine, none of them blessed,
My adenine, thymine, just like the rest,
All of them sequenced, in neat little clips,
Here comes the four horsemen,
Of my apocalypse.

I felt sorry for him, so sorry you see,
It was not his decision, to be all you can be,
Or not to be, that is a question, posed
with Shakespearan glee,
He couldn’t read the fine print, you see
With no eye’s you see. Oh say can you see?

My clone passed a man with a pamphlet to read,
Jesus saves my dear boy, that’s all that you need,
this contract you sign, will grant you God speed.

“I’m soulless and homeless,” said my clone with a smirk,
I haven’t had time, to be a real jerk,
I’ve been in a fog, an unfortunate haze,
I’ve been only alive for a couple of days.”

.My clone moved around on the physical earth,
With no hope of redemption, release, or rebirth,
“If love won’t release me, it’s hate I will breed,”
I‘m a terrible spawn, from a terrible seed.
In a losing game, I have to concede.”

(Now I never thought a twitch, to put him on a shelf,
But when we sat together, he was beside himself.)

My clone on his birthday sighed a terrible sigh,
That he wanted to, “just lay me down and die,”
His desire for this, was so total and blind,
His own DNA began to unwind,
I called up the Church, the Lab, and the State,
That my clone was dying at a terrible rate.
“Your call is extremely important to us”,
As long as you don’t raise, or kick up a fuss.

He died on a cold night on old Halloween,
Alone and frightened at the terrible scene.
And there, I laid my clone to rest,
But alas, he had no soul to bless.

I took a walk, to kick my heart rate,
And was grateful, 
that I had a different fate.

And if your neighbor greets you,
with a blank full of stare,
I hope he’s just tired, 
and someone’s in there.
But don’t call the Church the Lab or the State,
They usually arrive just a little too late.




 









Copyright © Mark Leeper | Year Posted 2013


Long poem by William J. Jr. Atfield | Details |

The Bad, Bad Boy My Dear, sweet China Flower

The Bad, Bad Boy 

My Dear, sweet China Flower :

   The Oriental fragrance of you lingers on, it has permeated the very fibers of my mind and my home.
   I am, oh so very sorry for over stepping boundaries, going beyond my place, in your life. I am sorry for letting my passions, my desires become the flames that defiled your beautiful innocence.
   I really feel bad for the BAD, BAD thing I did to you and for leaving you unsatisfied. I am also, so very sorry for pollinating - planting my seeds deep within - your beautiful flower,
and for doing so without your desire, your consent as I slipped between your stems and into your dreams .
   I do hope that you can find it in your heart to forgive this old fool for - in the heat of moments of desire to taste, to savour the flavour of your liquid honey, honey that felt so good I could not resist - defiling the innocent beauty of your womanhood, in desecrating a beautiful Flower, of China. All to satisfy my own lecherous appetites, appetites that violated the purity and innocence in you, broke the trust, that I believe you placed in the hands of this foolish old stranger.
   I am truly sorry for my acts of indiscretion, and even more so for my not
bringing to fruition, the blossoming of your beautiful flower, feeling it, seeing it explode in a brilliance of rainbow colours, that would have lit up the hours of our late night, early morning.
   Please do not think to badly of me, my Dear .

LOVE BILL .

   As I look into the above, I come to realize that I painted a picture of what must appear, to you the reader, an aggressive, forceful, selfish, inconsiderate,monster who is lurking among the shadows of my rhyme ?, / poetry ?, but let me assure you that that is as far from the truth as is the closest universe . 
   The above poem ?, / rhyme ?, came on the heels of my lack of understanding, an inability to read the signs and the over active imagination of this author as I was looking into the beauty of the first times I made love to this Beautiful China Flower, in a bright light at night's darkest hour and again in the soft glow of dawn's first sight of passion's delight . 
   The truth be told, taking poetic license, an active imagination, lack of verbal communication - for there is this language and cultural difference as well as only three months of Canadian culture and the English language under her belt, at the time - told me one story while I neglected to take into account all the none verbal expression that came, and came from this Chinese Flower, as she expressed in the silences of her physical participation a truth and that truth has blossomed many, many times since under the green thumb of this old gardener, so what is the true reality ?, the rhyme ?, / poem ?, this statement ? 
   In the light of this, the poem ?, /rhyme ?, does not a reality make . A monster ?, a fool ?, a blind man ?, an artist ?, does any of this tell what this author could be under all my words ?

Copyright © William J. Jr. Atfield | Year Posted 2012


Long poem by Timothy Jacks | Details |

The Masters

h when i was truth i fell
drew boy i grew up
still def still be a cre4ators tool
wipers for the pain tears drop
fear not, fret no baby worrys from the devil. whispers on my ear xrtays , be very afraid, cantrall camaflauge like a sand dollar, honor boy we descretion , a virtue is all im left now, we the still launching balls in the park, remarks, its remarkableaint it?deep all dark as the cell lights from weldsgenuine from the top to the bottom, weathered by the struggle tried and true i confess tyhe devil still got a bounty on my head here, Weapons come bring all even that

determination reaffirmed confirmation
dragged across the face of
the devil, and i will face him,
killer on a cutthroat, lost my chrome and prorellis,
tomahawk mechetes,common cause i blare on, bread and butter, married to love of, giving mary credit, everytime i ever said it, deeper than the message, freedom never said more, boy act like he badder, go for me now im bipolar facing all weapons like its the deepest ****ing episode, connection in the west, no nothing coming easy, friends spell finders,wilder than saying it aint over, i aint acting like im clean, babys body beating on my head whelps and melodies, def to a felony, boy consider carefully im more than just distant memories, more than u still feell, the crown on your head of a king i slam down, been down in this sound like seashells has been around, like it hurts well pain is my profession, still trying trying to perfect it, pros dont know whats pros and cons know, among those pics as fast a lens close, so i been known tell u motha****as i been known, still feeling likke i got a price on me, yea devils got a bounty on my head, ask my nephew, ask me and stars shine like scars be me traveling far to minds, reaching for more life treating this like im beast tearing out this town by its eyeballs, white squalls black powder , blast that ass like Im massive passions in acid baths,listen strictly speaking to the Masters, G-force and white noise creator of the devil salngs pain choice words Streets still speak ina deep voice, do u feel remorse, hear the men i lead hear me boy slient in a count down anticipation anger too got u making mistakes now, now now no i aint even dressed in your wardrobe, take the tie off, nical all nighters, alcohol graig them twist their ****ing minds up, listen if u got better hand, well stealth meet finesse's nails, i said i will, sett a trap and the net never catches me it never will, dealing with a hardhead, as i rain hell down soft my middle finger the taste of victory , that u still long for, flash that mercy and emergencys well dont freak out, i speak out
and put a X on a narc's head, boy im part metal, its what i teethed on, Like Im thuggish for accidents that the dicate the laws broken by a skunk, feel my blanco vendetta,as it shrinks your stature, just suppose I stole your power, well ***** u can have it back,

Copyright © Timothy Jacks | Year Posted 2013


Long poem by Maurice Yvonne | Details |

When Jealousy Rears Its Ugly Head

Yesterday I went home for lunch I never go home for lunch When I got to our apartment I don't know why but I didn't reach for my key I was sure I had locked the door but I didn't reach for my key I reached for the door knob and turned The door was open The moment I entered I knew I froze I could feel it smell it hell I could taste it I started walking but my muscles wouldn't move my lungs were grasping for air for some oxygen but I could barely breathe Leave I told myself but I kept walking Not really walking, it was like a slow motion scene in a movie But this wasn't a movie This was my life and I could feel it slipping away from my grasp I heard noises Francine I had heard those noises a hundred times before they were the sounds of an Angel but this was no heaven this was my own private nightmare The moans traveled through the muck in the air and were amplified like the hiss from a distorted speaker It mocked me over and over again Climbing a mountain might have been easier I finally reached the bedroom I knew the moment I entered the apartment Why hadn't I just turned back I could barely see my eyes were covered in layers of salted moisture but I could see her I had never seen him before They were naked in our bed Our bed You'd think the green eyed monster would control my actions from here on in. I was insanely jealous but I didn't want to end up the morning headline in the newspaper. That monster jealousy was by my side but I took charge. I'd have to keep him at bay, at least for now. You'd think I would be mad I wasn't You'd think I'd curse and call her whore she wasn't She was just sharing, sharing her body with someone, someone who wasn’t me Being cut open alive must be less painful than this I had done the same countless times before That was so different it felt so harmless the other way around You excuse it rationalize it away But this hacked away at my spirit and tore at my self-worth I spoke I mean my lips moved and words came out I think I think I said I'm not sure it all happened so fast she never spoke I could see the shame on her face she didn't need to speak but but I think I said Sorry I said Sorry and I left I wandered for what seemed hours it was minutes It wasn't like I was meandering to a different drummer there just wasn't any music anymore I was moving to the rhythm of the beating of my heart Like a broken record it was skipping I suffered in my circled steps until I couldn't stand anymore and found just enough strength to return to the apartment I knew she was gone I already felt the emptiness in my frame She was gone She had left a note It said Sorry Sorry! We both were.
Maurice Yvonne Sponsor: Verlena S. Walker Contest Name: The Green-Eyed Monster

Copyright © Maurice Yvonne | Year Posted 2014


Long poem by Terry Trainor | Details |

Judgement

Listen to the wind as it crashes into the towns and villages and downs mighty trees,
Stand still, let it blow until you nearly fall, face its anger and lean into the cold wind,
It brings snow so heavy, flakes will bite your face, freeze your wet golden pig tails
Stand in the blizzard then fall to the ground and stay there, this is your judgement day,

It's time to reflect darkest needs, and the moral ruin in that space, of your passing years.
Listen to the wind bending boughs, branches and the flow of a turbid stream of pollution,
A pollution that floats the wretched souls and bodies of all mankind to death and to hell,
You hear a sound of branches creaking under the strain of despicable wrongs in your life,

It's a mighty power that takes away the beat of the immoral pulse of your sorry humanity,
So now you are ready to listen, so listen hard, but then you know your own sorry story.
Listen to the wind and hail sweeping over dead leaves, throwing them into a black sky,
Do leaves shiver or do they shout out loud in rage as they are scooped up in a frenzy,

Will you pray to your god, ask him for forgiveness as this is your last day on earth,
Or will you beg in the tattered slops of your own righteousness just to save yourself,
Listen to the tolling of the old passing bell that swings in your black dome of vice.
You will feel the devils havoc amongst immortal souls, a hell fire dwelling in your heart,

A story of your progress a disease of lies which sucked away all goodness from your days,
Lies have plucked the red roses from childhood and set a brand of hate on your wet brow,
The story of lies which have stalked and spread up and down the earth for many centuries,
Lies that sweeps millions upon millions to destruction, for this disease there is no cure. 

How many sighs have been noted down in your heaven and how many tears were for yourself,
Those too often troubled fountains flowing like April showers, your wolf's tears fallen,
How many hearts have you broken in loveless famine, all for a want of an act of kindness,
See how deep the dyes painted in your days, a selfish dense black cloud as the background,

So look behind you, see the old man carrying his scythe, he is waiting and he has patience. 
Listen hard, listen well, do you hear trumpets blare over the crashing white landscapes,
Will you pray brimstone or treacle and tell the wind your sins the unacceptable truth's,
Did you sit and drink your wine murmuring everlasting hate in a rich full flavoured voice.

You are just a blank space in a world of nothingness a mere sour taste in the universe,
Your vicious wrongs telling the same old stories heard by thousands, thousands of times,
You close your mind and pretend to forget what cannot be forgotten, tell me are you bad, 
Because I would like to know if you think you are a good example, I would like to know.

Copyright © Terry Trainor | Year Posted 2013


Long poem by Andrew Crisci | Details |

Undeserved Generosity

In his wealthy days, he looked down
on homeless people and disgusted by their
stench, he cried out, " Take a warm bath! " 
He kept on walking fixing his black hat
tossed upward by a capricious, wild wind.

He dressed well and passerby admired him,
he turned many ladies heads with his stylish
Armani dark suit and Gucci dark sunglasses.
but older guys stared at him with much envy:
he was in his early sixties, but looked younger. 

A hungry man sensing his greed shouted,
" Sir, do you have a dollar to buy me coffee? "
" Filthy bum, you are too lazy to get a job! "
He replied with much indignation in his voice.
" I was like you wearing the best suits money
could buy, then I lost my job on Wall Street! 
I am forced to beg...where is human kindness? "
He spoke those words with great bitterness. 

He wasn't moved by what he had heard
and muttered, " They are all the same,
freeloaders fooling idiots who give them
dollars and they in turn buy cigarettes
and alcohol; who is the clever one?

Months passed and the homeless guy
still begged, some gave him quarters
and dollars, others kept on walking;
he didn't see that stylish gentleman
who despised his condition and insulted
him with nasty looks and unkind words,  
where had he gone? He had to ask somebody.
" I think I saw him today on Lexington Avenue."
A passerby shouted running to the subway.

The teen told him he lost all he had 
when the Stock Market dropped to its 
lowest in August, another Black Tuesday,*
then he pointed where he was laying,
" He's on next block in a cardboard box! "
The homeless man deeply wondered.

He got up, went to take a shower
and put on a suit somebody gave
to him along with black shades;
He looked very rich, everyone was
impressed by his attire, and best
of all, he smelled good: he was alive.

" Good morning, Sir, can I offer you 
anything, coffee and a hot hero *? " 
He asked him by hiding his identity.
" Yes, please...I haven't eaten in days! "
Nobody is showing mercy, they look
away if I were a sewer rat looking for
food on this sidewalk of cuisine smell."

" Wait, I will right back with your food! 
He ran across the busy avenue and
returned with a bag full of sweet cakes
and a pastrami hero; the coffee steamed 
in the chilly afternoon, it seemed a
Manhattan' street giving off puffs of stream
from under the sewers during Fall and winter.

" Thank you for your kindness, kind man! "
The once-rich-man said to the stranger,
he seemed sorry as if his greedy heart had
had found underserved generosity which 
he himself had denied...remembering how
desperate that man was when he asked
for money to get coffee and stay warm.

 
* A Hero is a New York or New Jersey
Hero Sandwich
* Black Tuesday happened on October 29, 1929
  
 

Copyright © Andrew Crisci | Year Posted 2016


Long poem by Regina Vasquez | Details |

Mindless

My Mind whats it doing?....where is trying to go? A once safe haven only i could control.  What happen to me i feel like im falling so deep into a lonely darkness. thats now in my mind i recognize it its not my first time. confused and lost its just me again. feeled with anger and sadness its already consumed.  i come here often  .sometimes you know whats going on and most of the time I linger away its quiter there not much to say. quick flashes of images come out just for a second not long enough to figure it all out...I see u when  I go to that place...i smile and wave it gave me comfort just to see your face..sometimes the flashes are really hard to take...whats it all mean i try to think to myself... maybe in my mind this is really how it is not a mistake. it feels like something pulling on me to go that way so i let go a lil cause my mind needs to go the other way ...conversations are heard i dont really know why...i..hardly remember cant seem to reach out to  my own mind...slowly im slipping and leaving my family behind...im sorry for all this pain and disappointment i might have to leave behind...i cant even understand it...so i just cry...when i wants to it can have thoughts and worries all night...than there is the times when not a single thing will cross my mind....i know i have to let u go...its so hard i cant let go...but it seems like i have to try to save whats left of my mind...i erase the thought quickly you are my sanity without you my life went blank...thats why my mind is doing the same...too broken and weak no use in trying..cause i noticed today my heart stopped trying..and now. it looks like im comfy like i once had been...and u here with me. im happy again....but wait i hear my daughters voices...mommy come back...but i dont want to. i cant,  but tears start to fill my eyes...how could i just leave them behind...i feel a sudden rush of love pass by me....and i know it was him making sure i made it back safe where i belong where ive always been..its that close sometimes where we cant take it all in and our mind will takes away but its not coming back, at least not the same way ...and if it does its probably gonna wander off again   ...just remember to tell your loved ones just in case...im sorry this happened...i will love you no matter what...but please remeber me the way i was before,  not this way  when my mind decided to give up. ..i will hate myself for this forever for doing this to all of you..but its not giving me a choice it happens so fast  and if i cant come back..dont feel bad..its not your fault i couldnt fight back...i will struggle till the end....just know i love you all and eventually i will return back to you again

Copyright © Regina Vasquez | Year Posted 2013


Long Poems